Inter Spem Et Metum
by DarkAngelLillith
Summary: Fenris never would've thought a mage could help him and his daughter, but Garrett Hawke not only was willing to help fight his master, but teach him how to be a father to his daughter and Hawke's own kids. AU/warnings inside
1. Chapter 1: Lothering

Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine and I make no profit out of this.

**WARNINGS: AU, mpreg, child abuse-torture-death**

A/N: I don't know what I was thinking, but it wouldn't leave me alone. This is an alternate universe of sorts. So here goes nothing! Like or hate it, tell me what you think and any mistakes that need correcting.

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><p>Lothering:<p>

Ser Bryant eyed the family and wondered how no one knew. He was sure at least three of them were apostates, perhaps one of them maleficarum. How the other templars could not know it, feel it, like he did frustrated him to no end. Or perhaps this was the reason he'd been promoted to Knight-Lieutenant and sent to Lothering; he certainly wasn't the most experienced or their elder.

He watched the oldest of the apostates as he greeted the templars at the Chantry's doors with a terse nod. At least he knew the dangerous game they were playing. His children, and they looked so much like him to not be, were less cautious. The eldest child, a young man close to his age, greeted them warmly, with a solid handshake and a few exchanged words that told him the apostate considered them good friends. The two youngest, twins, approached them with such familiarity that it would be correct to say those templars were verygood friends of the family even when the father didn't seem to like it.

He frowned, watching as the villagers greeted the family with the warmth reserved to the closest of friends. Men, women, templar and Revered Mother alike. It was maddening!

"Those are the Hawkes," Ser Thomas piped up as he walked to stand beside Bryant.

"They live here? Can't say Lothering is abysmally small, but I'd think I would've seen them around by now," he needed to know the location of the apostates. If only to watch them while he cleaned Lothering from the corrupted, unwatchful, templars it harbored.

"They have a small farm a day from here, Ser," the man answered, "They're good people."

"Everyone is good in someone else's eyes," Bryant replied tersely.

There was silence and Bryant thought the conversation over. He was about to head out to his study and pen a concerned letter to the Knight-Commander, when Thomas spoke again.

"Lothering would've disappeared from the plague at least two times had Malcom not swooped in and save us all. Garrett comes sometimes to answer the desperate pleads on the Chanter's Board. Leandra and her youngest volunteer at the Chantry. They are not rich people, but they always give something to aid the orphans and the widows. They do more good here than anywhere else. "

It was the last words that made him pause and stare at the older templar with incredulity.

"You know?"

"One thing you'll learn soon enough, Ser, is that there are no secrets in Lothering."

"Has everyone here gone mad? What about your oath?"

The old templar seemed amused. It angered him. He was their superior and he was staring at him as if he was a child. Just because he was the youngest templar in this blighted town, didn't give them the right to mock him. Especially when he knew he was in the right.

His displeasure must have shown more than he thought it did, because Thomas' smile faded and he shrugged.

"This isn't Denerim or Redcliff, Knight-Lieutenant. This place is a small village in the middle of nowhere. Arl Eamon only bothers with us for our farms. Sure, it's true that the Arl keeps some of his men around, but it's also true that they'll be the first to be called back to protect the Arling if something were to happen. I fear we will be the only defense this poor people will have if that day ever comes."

"_They _are the reason we are here, Thomas. We are not city guards or Lothering soldiers to fight for this village. We are holy warriors that have vowed to keep the entire world safe from the dangers of magic."

Thomas huffed; clearly annoyed with his superior, but Bryant didn't care. He'd traveled from Denerim to this miserable place daydreaming about how he'll finally put this place in the map. How proud the Order would be of him and his men. Only to find himself in the middle of nowhere, the youngest of all templars and smacked in the face by the blatant disregard of everything he'd been taught… THEY'd been taught.

"The Order is here because needs to keep an eye on the Wilds with its heathen Chasind and its famous witches. You'll see soon enough how much the world cares for this little village, Ser."

Ser Bryant wanted to deny the man. Tell him that he was wrong, but the certainty in which he spoke held his tongue. After all, Thomas had come from Denerim too some twelve years ago and he'd be a fool to ignore the years of experience speaking back at him. The sudden thought that he'd probably see his death in this place came and went so quickly he didn't have time to dwell on it, though there was a dread in his heart that had not been there before.

"The Hawkes have been here for seven years. In all that time, they've only used their magic to help the people that live here when help was too far away to do us any good. Give them two months to prove themselves, Ser. Get to know them in that time. Afterwards, you may do what your conscience tells you, but give them that. Magic is to serve man not rule over him. We've all heard the words, Ser, but I never saw them truly practiced until they came here."

Bryant found himself staring at the family again. He could feel the magic around them, though they tried to hide it. The youngest boy was asking Ser Erik about his sword. His twin was listening in rapture to a story one of the sisters was telling the orphans. The mother was chatting away with the other women while keeping a watchful eye on her children. The eldest was setting a small stall to sell what little they brought from their farm. And the father…

The father was speaking with Tobias. The old man had a sickly daughter whose husband died of a bear attack, or at least that's what he'd been told. Said daughter had been pregnant and Bryant had been witness of the old man's prayers for her well being during delivery. Said daughter approached the two men slowly, dark circles under her eyes and way too thin for what he thought a pregnant woman should look. The apostate looked at her, analyzed her, and took her hand in his. The magic around him flared, but there was no real show of any magic being used. The change in the woman was almost instantaneous. She moved faster, the circles around her eyes disappeared and if she hadn't been so thin he would've thought her a healthy woman. The woman thanked him, the old man tried to give him a coin purse, but the apostate refused.

"Two months, Thomas. After that, I'll personally escort them to the Circle."

Two months later, Ser Bryant stared at the empty parchment. He couldn't do it. Everything he'd been taught told him that he had to do it. Everything he'd seen told him that he shouldn't. True to his word, he used his two months to know more about the Hawkes. He learned of Leandra's noble past and her fabulous cooking. He learned of Bethany's love of children and her dream of building an orphanage so she could care for those that had no one to love them. He learned of Carver's love of weapons and even promised to teach him about swords. A promise the youngest Hawke was soon to remind him of when he appeared with a rusty greatsword the very next day. He learned of Malcom's strict teachings and love of life and family. And he learned of Garrett's dream of one day giving his mother the life she ran away from when she left her family for a Fereldan.

Bryant wasn't stupid. He knew the mother ran away because her husband was an apostate not because of where he was born. He knew Malcom was powerful, but Garrett had more untapped power in him. He knew Bethany loved and hated her gift. And he knew Carver wished he wasn't the odd child out. But he'd seen them use their hands to do things magic would do much easier. He'd seen them toil with the other men and women who were not mages. And he'd seen with his own two eyes how the sick and the injured recovered after one of them visited the person. How they wouldn't accept payment for their service and, if forced to take the gold, how they donated it.

Ser Thomas had this big shit eating grin that made him want to smack the man. The other templars looked amused, but they wisely kept their grins and comments to themselves. But he couldn't take them to the Circle. Malcom would surely become tranquil, if he wasn't executed. He was too old to be given any sort of chance. Bethany would be taken, she was young enough to be given a chance, but the quarantine would be too hard on her who has spent all her life with someone at her side. Plus he could see she was beautiful and he dreaded to think what could happen to her by either a mage's or a templar's hands. Carver would surely be taken and placed in quarantine too until they were sure he had no magic in him. That is, if the young man allowed them to take him and not tried to fight. Otherwise, he'll be dead. Leandra will be left alone to fend for herself, like the widows and orphans that she helped before. And Garrett…

Garrett could be locked away or turned tranquil, if he didn't die trying to keep his family from being separated. And Bryant knew, he knew, the man would blame him for it and hate him and something inside him didn't like that idea. He liked Garrett. The mage was one of the few friends he'd made in this piss hole of a village.

With a loud curse, the templar put away the parchment and headed to the tavern. Drinking was frowned upon, but not in Lothering. Lothering was too far away from anyone that could reprimand him.

A year later, neither Bryant nor Garret noticed when they began to spend almost every day together. Malcom worried, Leandra fretted, Bethany tried to be friendly and not show her fear and Carver was ecstatic to have his sword teacher nearby to practice.

Their first kiss was accidental. One fateful slip that had one falling over the other, their bodies colliding in a heap of arms and legs that they ignored because their mouths had crashed together in a slightly painful version of a kiss. Their second wasn't accidental and, though chaste, left them both panting and trembling with their hearts beating like a dwarven drum and running away from each other.

Two weeks apart afterwards. With the Knight-Lieutenant struggling to make sense of the teachings he'd tried to leave behind, the reality of what each of them were and the feelings he didn't know he had cultivated. It left him drunk and angry and wishing for something he had not given a name to.

Two weeks with a confused apostate who'd been consoled by his mother and lectured by his father. Of crying every night because what he wanted could not be and the bad example he must be setting his siblings by falling for their enemy.

Two weeks that crashed down into nothing when they saw each other again before the mass began and Ser Bryant pulled him into his quarters, kissed him and promised him he would never betray his trust. The cold reality that everyone knew their secret washed away with the reality that they knew and they still saw them as human and not monsters.

A kiss turned into something more. Soon, it was known all over that Garrett and Bryant were courting each other. In even more hushed tones, it was told how the templar had built the apostate a small house nearby so they could move in together. A complete scandal the moment the Revered Mother, in the middle of a mass, turned to the templar and gave her blessing. But somehow the news never reached outside of Lothering. Bryant was sure Arl Eamon's knights had to know something, but they seemed blind to the needs of the village. Occasionally they would stop a group of raiders or thugs, but most of the time it was Garrett, Bryant and his templars that protected the city from those threats.

When Garrett began to feel sick, Bryant worried. Malcom had become ill too and the only healer was Bethany, who wouldn't leave her father's side. Risking making the man sicker, Bryant took them to the Hawke farm. Malcom Hawke did not look good. Bryant wondered how long until the healing magic became useless. The older Hawke seemed to be thinking the same as they both shared a look. A dying man asking a man he'd been forced to trust to take care of them. To not betray them. And getting that promise.

Bethany's check up showing him a miracle. He was going to be a father. Magic. Garrett's magic had made it possible. It was horrifyingly scary, but Garrett confessed to have wanted it so much that his magic had reacted without him knowing it.

Leaving Garrett in the Hawke farm with the excuse that he wanted to care for his father. Going back into the empty house and wondering how he'd make it ready for their child without anyone knowing. Watching Garrett grow big from their child. The worry every time he saw how the continued use of magic to keep the pregnancy going taxed him and how fragile and worn out he grew each day. The fear that he would lose them both to the limitations a male body had on pregnancy and delivery. The wonder and amazement every time he felt it kick.

Somehow managing the deception. Visiting him at the farm and leaving with more worries as something dark loomed in the horizon. Witnessing the death of Malcom Hawke and how loved he was in Lothering was heartbreaking. Knowing Garrett could not come because if his pregnancy made it even more so. Everyone else but him worried thinking he has the same sickness as Malcom.

Then, news of darkspawn near the Wilds. King Cailan's soldiers marching through Lothering and taking all able men with him. Hiding Garrett until they went away. Giving Carver a new sword. The boy promised his mother he'll come back. The dread that never really left increasing slowly with every day.

And watching as the quiet little town slowly filled with strangers seeking refuge. Men, women and children that had nothing save the clothes on their backs. How reality had finally come to Lothering and what had almost ceased to be secret was kept sealed tight again.

The waiting. The waiting that killed him until not one, but two babies' cries brought him back to life. Holding not one, but two little gifts of the Maker while Garrett slept. Telling everyone how he found a woman giving birth and helped her before she died of exhaustion after promising to keep them. Knowing the Revered Mother did not believe him, but did not push the matter further.

He had one month to enjoy being a father. One month of worrying over the fate of Lothering as he watched the Arl's men being sent back to Redcliff and Eamon's Knights passing through only to ask about the blasted ashes of Andraste. Watching as people came looking for aid that they could no longer offer.

When the two wardens came, telling him to prepare because the horde was coming, he knew his time had come. He prayed, he cried, he raged and he accepted. He would die, but not his family. He would fall, but not Lothering. He made preparations, not as many as he liked but there wasn't much time. He pleaded for the Hawkes to leave, for Garrett to take their children. They cried, one begged the other kissed and together they prepared. When Carver appeared, half dead and speaking of betrayal at Ostagar Bryant knew it was time.

They said goodbye. He kissed his children. Little Malcom Hawke who had those precious blue eyes all Hawkes had. Beautiful little Cecily who inherited his mother's eyes as well as name. He watched them leave with a heavy heart.

"You should've gone with them, Ser."

Thomas. The templar whose challenge gave him the best three years of his life.

"Staying here gives the people more time to run to safety."

Because as much as he wanted to say he stayed to protect his family, the truth was that he stayed to give all the people in Lothering, the villagers and the refugees, time to run. Time that otherwise they would not have.

"No one would've thought less of you for leaving with your family."

"I'm staying for my family, Thomas. For your family and for all of Lothering. He'll be fine. All of them will be fine. The Maker would not allow our sacrifice to be in vain."

Bryant stared at the horizon. His templars were older than him, but not that old. Erik, the oldest, should be around forty, and still lucid. At least with twenty years of marriage to the innkeeper's sister. He was still the youngest at twenty two. Regret for all the life he should've had with Garrett filled him. All the plans he'd made and the dreams they shared were torn to shreds and burnt.

"Let's get to the Chantry. The Revered Mother wants to have one final mass for us, the sisters and the people that could not leave."

When the darkspawn arrived the templars met them sword in hand. The sisters were slain protecting the sick and the old. The unluckiest were dragged screaming under the earth. The Revered Mother was torn to shreds in the altar where she prayed for those that ran away to make it to safety.

And Ser Bryant died heroically in the battlefield. It wasn't the death of a templar, at the hand of some maleficar or by lyrium madness. It wasn't the death he wanted, at the side of his lover and surrounded by family. It was the death of a man that found a home in the unlikeliest of places and saw everything turn to ashes. And as he tired, the spawn finally overcame him. And as the roar of battle faded, came the roar of a dragon. As the stench of blood, taint and darkspawn faded, came the smell of dragon's fire. As the beating of his heart ceased to be, came the sound of flapping wings and snapping jaws.

When the world turns black there is a second before the Maker gathers you in his arms. His last thought a wish. A wish to have one more day with his family. A wish to hold them one more time. And a woman's voice, old and wise as time, hard and unforgiving as a templar's blade…

"Fate brought you together. Chance separated you. Your time together has ended, but his life is just beginning. Your sacrifice will make the world tremble. A shame that you won't be able to witness it."

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><p><em>AN2: I promised I wouldn't start something without it already been finished, but there are enough chapters already written and my husband promised I could use his internet at night to my heart's content.<em>


	2. Chapter 2: Tevinter Imperium

**WARNINGS: AU, mpreg, child-abuse-torture-death, slash**

A/N: Tell me what you think and any mistakes you find that need correcting.

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><p>Tevinter Imperium:<p>

Buying good slaves was a gold consuming task. Sure, you could always get a cheap one, but they either died from sickness or for trying to escape. Breaking a slave was time consuming. Sure, it could be satisfying, but only if you truly had the time needed to dedicate to the task. It was an art that had to be perfectly done or you would lose your whole investment.

Breeding slaves was easier and mostly free. The mother would care for the child until it was old enough to survive on its own. She would teach the child how to act, what to fear, what to do and all the ways to keep their masters pleased.

The magisters had made a game of breeding slaves themselves. A magister wishing to breed a slave outside his household would flaunt the poor thing in front of his friends and allies. If someone was interested, a contract was written. Usually two children, one for each magister, were promised in this sort of deal and magic used to ensure the two children would be delivered.

Danarius had no plans of breeding his bodyguard. Fenris was a unique creature and he didn't like the idea of his prized possession losing his uniqueness. When Hadrianna came with the idea of getting a slave to continue his experimentations with lyrium he'd been intrigued, but had to admit the cost of buying slaves to lose them to the process was too high for his liking. When she whispered to him that he had a slave that had proven strong enough to withstand the process and whose resilience could be passed to his offspring, the idea took hold on him. Once she reminded him that he could get more than one child on a pregnancy, the magister jumped to the idea.

He didn't want any slave for his little wolf. A slave he might be, but he deserved the best specimen to rut with. After all, only the best would produce a strong, healthy child capable to survive the experiments he would subject it to.

It was another magister's bodyguard that took his attention. Nerio was an elf, like his little wolf, and the magister clearly wanted to breed her with the way he was boasting about her skills and the way he showed her off to the other magisters.

He didn't approach the magister with intentions to breed, but with intention to buy her. The magister didn't like it, but Danarius knew everyone had a price. Once he knew whose blood needed to be spilled the magister grudgingly sold his bodyguard.

Watching them breed was fascinating. A potion to ignite their passion along with the extra potent fertility potion was all it was needed. Part of him wished he could leave them to it or someone else to watch them, but Danarius couldn't afford to be careless. The potion drove any thought of their well being away and he had to make sure they didn't injure themselves.

He gave his Fenris one day to enjoy the female until the potion's effects ran its course. His slave was the better bodyguard, as the lyrium made him available to continue his duties after his body was clear of the potion. The female was bedridden for three days, but she had conceived.

Danarius kept a close watch on the elf, meaning Fenris watched the pregnancy as closely as his master. Perhaps she'd been pretty, but her previous life as a bodyguard left her with more scars in visible places, like her face and hands. She was strong, but the potent fertility potion Danarius had given her gave her more children than her body could hold. Fenris watched in muted horror as the skin stretched into an impossibly large belly for her build. He knew she would not survive the birth and she knew it too. Yet he didn't feel guilty and she didn't hate him. They had done as ordered and they had pleased their master. If they had to hate someone it would have to be him, but they couldn't hate a person they lived to please.

When the time came, her screams tore at what little feelings slaves usually kept for themselves. She died before any of her children saw the light of day, but Danarius simply cut her body open. Five babies. One dead before it was born. Fenris feared his master would be angry at the loss of two slaves in one day. Instead he watched as the dead one became the first experiment and witnessed the future this four wailing things would have.

Lyrium could not raise the dead for long and he remembered well the agony of his own ritual, but at least his master proved lyrium could be recovered from a dead body.

Four children. Given a place in a room that was already too small for him. Blankets that were too thin to keep the cold and not enough milk for the quantities they desired. But he had orders to not lose even one of them and Fenris did his best to obey. Caring for things that slowly turned to children in his mind. Children that dangerously started to become his instead of Danarius'. Making the mistake of giving them names in his mind: Nenia, Carna, Larentina and Levana. Naming them meant he had to name the dead one, if only to honor the horrifying minutes of agony he knew she suffered when Danarius tried to revive her. Little Paverta had still probably been the luckiest of the girls by being dead.

Little Nenia followed her six months later. What Danarius wanted to accomplish was unknown to him. Perhaps the magister had spoken about it, but he could not listen. His ears were filled with the baby's cries of terror and pain. His eyes, that should be on the floor unless he suspected a threat, could only see the little arms trying to reach him and the green eyes pleading him to save her. His hands bled as he cut his palm with his gauntlets and his whole body trembled as he fought with the instinct to rush in and save her. She died burned alive by lyrium. Danarius was oddly satisfied. Fenris could only hold his three remaining daughters afterwards knowing that, should the magister come for them, he would have to give them up.

Six more months. A whole year of feeding and caring for three little girls when Danarius didn't need him. They were beautiful and it scared him. It tormented him to know he could not save them. He dreaded the moment Danarius came for one of them. A moment that came all too soon.

His little Carna. The only one with the red hair and blue eyes of their mother. He placed her on the table when Danarius ordered. He watched her being cut open while alive because his master wanted to see the effect of lyrium on the insides of the body. He witnessed as magic kept her suffering going on for days. And for the first time in years, he dared to plead his master to end her suffering.

Fenris had nothing save his body. He was nothing but a slave. He breathed because his master wished him to. He would die because his master willed it so. There was no hope, no dreams, no mercy and no escape. It didn't surprise him when Danarius laughed at his begging and continued his experiment. It didn't surprise him when he was punished for daring to speak to the magister. Or when he was ordered to return to the room to watch the rest of the experiment.

It took his little one six days to die. Danarius had him clean up the butchered remains. Of all his children, this one's death was the one that most haunted him. If only because he did not fight for her and the agony his little Carna went through surpassed by far his very own experience with lyrium. No child, no person, should suffer what his beautiful baby suffered at the hands of a mage.

Finally a respite. Danarius was busy trying to show his political rivals he could fight as well as any other man against the Qunari without actually doing any fighting himself. With the aid of the household slaves he managed to keep his two daughters hidden. The foolish thought that Danarius would forget about them, perhaps grow bored of it all, had entered his mind a few times. Part of him, the foolish side that had dared to claim the little girls as his and named them, wanted to embrace that thought. Part of him, the side that knew how the real world worked, knew it was only a matter of time until he was forced to witness their deaths too.

His little Larentina was only two years, but so full of life. She would run around their little room giggling and smiling like a free child. The slave in charge of them when he was out with Danarius had taught his girls to give hugs and kisses. She was always the first to run to him and cling to his legs when he arrived. She would give him sloppy kisses when he held her in his arms. Dark haired and green eyed, she was way too curious for his peace of mind. He dared pray to any deity that would listen to keep her from finding a way out of their room.

He left two little girls to hunt down a magister that had annoyed his master. He returned to find only one waiting for him. And once he knew the fate of Larentina, he vowed to never pray again. For she had found a way out of the room and ran straight into Hadrianna, who smacked her for daring to touch her. When his child cried in pain, the apprentice asked Danarius to have her tongue removed.

His attention again on the girls, the magister jumped at the idea and had her join to watch if lyrium could be used to give the body the ability to regenerate limbs and organs that were removed. She was dead when he arrived. He still doesn't know if he should be grateful for that or not. After all, he was spared from witnessing his brightest star of five being extinguished for no reason at all, but it broke his heart, a heart he thought long dead, to know she died alone surrounded by monsters.

After that, he made sure Levana became a ghost. He had to leave her in the care of a slave when he had orders, but it was clear the woman could not forget what happened to her other charge and did not dare to sleep whenever the remaining child was entrusted to her. Teaching her all the things being a slave entailed.

Levana. One of five. His. Like all the others, save Carna, she had his eyes and the dark hair he suspected he had before the ritual. The quietest of the five. The smallest of the five. The less active of the five. Barely three and she knew it was not wise to speak. Barely three and she knew it was better to remain hidden. Just a child that knew crying did no good and playing would only get her killed, like the sister she barely remembered.

When Danarius was forced to go to Seheron to prove he truly could fight as he said he could, Fenris feared she would be left behind when it was obvious he would have to go too. But Danarius had brought her along, a gleam in his eye that told him he would lose his little one despite all the precautions to keep her out of the magister's gaze.

Either luck or a repentant god were at work the day Danarius was injured. Levana had strict orders to stay close at hand to the magister. Fenris knew then she was to be his blood sacrifice if anything happened. But she had become frightened by the battle and had run away from their master's hold. Fenris watched in dismay as she ran to the forest while he had to stay and fight. The distraction cost them both, magister and slave alike.

Injured, Fenris was ordered to get Danarius to safety. Despite everything telling him to run into the forest and search for his child, he did what he was told to. His master's face when he was forced to leave him made him feel something he now recognized as satisfaction. Something that changed into a more familiar fear as his wounds finally overtook him. His vision unfocused as he tried to follow the trail left by his own blood. To find his way back to the place he lost sight of his daughter. To save her, because this time he_ could_ save her. Only for his body to betray him as it fell to the ground halfway, the roar of his blood like a dragon's enraged cry as everything went black.

When the world turns black there is a second before the Maker gathers you in his arms. They say it is the moment where He can give a person one last chance at life. His last thought a wish. A wish to have his daughters back. A wish to hold them one more time. A wish to turn back time and die protecting them as he should have. And a woman's voice, old and menacing as a magister's, hard and unforgiving as a whip on his back…

"Freedom is a curious thing. A beautiful idea that everyone wants and no one has. Chains come in different forms. Some we want. Some we don't. Some we carry alone and others are carried by the whole. See the chains for what they are, but do not fear them. The most important, the ones that truly matter to us are the chains that we have to hold with both hands and fight with all our strength to keep."

When Fenris opened his eyes, he was in a hut. His wounds were dressed and his little girl was curled beside him fast asleep. Someone was with him, a woman smelling of herbs and a man with a sword in his hands. They watched him in turn. Him as well as his little child.

"Greetings, stranger. We found the child wandering the forest. She has not said a word, but she seems to know you."

He licked his lips, cracked and bleeding, before speaking. Voice hoarse and throat dry. Muscles screaming in protest and fear as he dared use his voice. He tightened his hold around the sleeping child. His child. _His_.

"Who are you?"

"We are many clans. Each with its own name that only friends know. Everyone else calls us Fog Warriors."

The fog warriors spoke of freedom. Did things no slave would dare to do. They smiled openly. The loved for everyone to see. They hoped and wished and dreamed. They lived as they pleased.

It was hard to act like they did, but he wanted to. It was hard to keep his daughter from learning all this terrible things that would only get her killed. Master Danarius would come at any moment. He would take him from this place and punish him for not waiting where he ordered him. He would beat his child. Kill her for running when she should've stayed. But time passed, like it always does, and his master didn't come.

He allowed a little hope to creep in. He allowed himself to dream he and Levana were free. It was so painful when Danarius marched into the village. The dream, the only one where Levana could remain alive, was over.

Soon he'll be back to Minrathous. Soon he'll cease to be a father until Danarius wished to breed him again. And then, he'll watch another handful of children, _HIS_, die. Over and over.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't let her die too. So in the middle of the battle between the warriors and Danarius' men, Fenris grabbed his daughter and fled. Hope kept him going until sand turned to water. Hope kept him going until sea turned to land again. Always running. Always hiding. Always living with the barest taste of freedom.

He didn't care. He couldn't care. Whenever he despaired, whenever he faltered, his daughter's smile was all he needed to remember why he ran away in the first place. She was one of five. The only one he had left. The only one he had fought for. He doubted any ritual could erase them from his mind. Lucky Paverta who the Maker brought dead and Danarius killed twice. Little Nenia who went up in flames wondering why her father didn't rescue her. Beautiful Carna who he gave willingly and saw suffer more than anyone. Vivacious Larentina who died alone for the crime of being a child. And Levana, his shining star and reason for living. The only family he remembered. The only chain that he did not care to carry. Dead or alive they were the first thing he called his own. His. Only his.


	3. Chapter 3: Bait and Switch

**WARNINGS: SAME AS PREVIOUS CHAPTERS**

_A/N: Here's the next chapter. I'll fix chapter 1 tonight. I swear I read about Ferelden politcs, I even got notes written down somewhere. I just forgot all about it while writing. when I do that, I'll check a few mistakes on chapter 2 at the same time. Thanks for reading, alerting, faving and reviewing! Again, tell me what you think._

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><p><strong>Bait and Switch:<strong>

Hawke watched the strange dwarf with amusement. Beside him, he could hear his brother's exasperated sigh. Behind him he could feel Aveline's angry gaze burning a hole through his back. A quick look downwards, told him Varric was as amused, if not more so, than him.

"Don't worry, we'll get your precious contraband. Just don't forget the gold or we'll be very angry," he told the dwarf, Anso, who's eyes widened almost comically at the threat.

"I… I… I'll have your payment. Don't you worry, Serrah," the dwarf practically bowed to them and Hawke wondered if it was too late to tell him he'd have to babysit while they went to the alienage. Not that Hawke spoke about his children or allowed anyone but his mother and Bethany to watch them, but just imagining the face of the dwarf almost sent him to hysterics.

They left the dwarf. Hawke steadily ignoring Aveline's disapproving glare. After all, she now knew of one lyrium smuggler and would probably get a good look to more of them tonight. Tomorrow she could go after them to her heart's content and claim she was pretending to be corrupt or something for her investigation.

"So, lovely day, right?"

Carver snorted, "It's night and it's the third time we have meetings with shady characters at midnight."

"Well, aren't you glad we're usually hanging out with a city guard," Varric piped up with a teasing smile that only grew as Aveline's face turned a lovely shade of red from anger.

"Who will arrest them after they've paid us for our services," Hawke finished, earning a painful armored slap at the back of the head by said woman.

"You're lucky I think Kirkwall doesn't need more parentless children, Hawke, or I'd have thrown you in with the lot of them a long time ago."

"Admit it Aveline," the man said while throwing his arm around the guard's shoulder, "You think my children are cute."

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes, shrugging the arm off of her, "Let's just get my evidence so I can arrest a smuggling dwarf."

"After he pays us," Hawke told her and quickly made his way a few paces ahead of her and led the group down the stairs and into the alienage before she could smack him again.

The chest the dwarf led them to was empty, but it clearly was guarded.

"Bloody waste of time, brother."

"As if you had anything better to do, Carver," he retorted, annoyed at the trap the dwarf had sent them into.

"Let's speak with the blighted dwarf," Aveline interceded, "I'm sure he'll have tons to say to the city guard after I'm done with him."

Hawke was left behind as they all seemed in a hurry to speak with Anso. Varric opened the door to step outside, looking back at the guardswoman to say, "It's saying things like _that_ that makes me fear you like an underground dwarf fears the sky."

Hawke laughed, waiting for Aveline's retort, but it never came. Hurrying out of the house, he found the group surrounded by masked men. He felt the Fade calling to him as someone weakened the Veil to cast spells.

Carver had been telling them something when he went out, so it didn't surprise him when the men attacked them. Carver had that effect on people. He rushed to the middle of the fray, using his staff as a pole axe, surprising the men attacking when he sent a fireball to a man that would attack his brother from behind.

Despite their numbers, his group was victorious. He didn't celebrate the victory or the chance to live one more day. He was furious with the dwarf for playing them for fools. The money he had offered was not enough to cover the trouble they'd gone through.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready to know what Anso has to say about this mess," he said, not bothering to look at the group before casting a healing spell for each of them.

"I was ready the minute he said he wanted us to help him smuggle lyrium," Aveline told him matter-of-factly before smirking at him, "Too bad you wanted me to wait until he paid you."

"Don't forget that he still owes us," Hawke teased her back as he took the first steps out of the alienage only to have his way blocked by another man.

"I don't know who you are, but whatever the elf offered the magister can easily surpass it."

Hawke frowned, confusion only fueling his anger towards the dwarf more. He hadn't just sent them to a trap. He had lied and sent them to a trap meant for someone else. He was going to wring the bastards' neck before giving him to Aveline.

After he gave them every little sovereign he had.

"Right now, I'm willing to give you the bastard that set me up freely. But, I'm a little curious. Why do you want this… elf you said?"

The man scoffed, "All you need to know is that this elf belongs to a powerful man. Give him to me, and I'll make sure he rewards you handsomely for retrieving his property."

Hawke let out an exaggerated sigh and turned to Aveline, "I believe this is the time where you smash his balls, Aveline."

"With pleasure, Hawke," she replied, striding forward and smashing her shield against the slaver.

The man screamed in pain as he fell to the floor, staring up at the guard unsheathing her sword. He crawled backwards, crying out into the night.

"Men! Attack!"

Behind Aveline, the rest of the group prepared to be swarmed by slavers. Instead, they watched as the woman drove her sword into the man's gut. Blood flowing down the stairs into the alienage to mingle with the cooling blood of his comrades.

"Well, that was anticlimactic!" Varric said as he approached the dead slaver and started rummaging through his pockets, "With any luck, he'll have a map or a note to get us to his evil, slaving lair. That'll make you happy for a month, Aveline."

"Luck's not been with us this night, Varric," Hawke reminded him.

He was tired, filthy and he wanted to see his children, but if it meant destroying a den of slavers, he was willing to sacrifice his beauty sleep. A dead slaver was one less slaver that could take his family away while they lived in Lowtown.

"Aha!" the dwarf cried as he unfolded a note and began to read it.

"Well?" his brother asked tersely, "Does it have a lead or can we go to our homes and sleep? I don't fancy staying up longer than necessary."

"You can go if you want," Garrett told him earning an angry scoff in return.

"And have mother yell at me for leaving you to die and leave the kids orphaned because there was no one to protect your fragile ass? Maker, no.

Garret wished he could find another warrior to join their little band. That way he could leave his brother home and mother would not fuss over him. Though he only had himself to blame for his mother's over protectiveness.

"If you're done whining, Junior, I can tell you what the…. Wait, do you hear something?" Varric's head turned to look up the stairs as he readied Bianca.

Aveline followed suit, shield high and waiting for the enemy to show itself. Carver rolled his eyes, but took out his sword. Hawke gripped his pole axe and tried to hear what got Varric's attention.

Footsteps.

They didn't have to wait long. At the top of the stairs, an elf appeared. He stopped when he caught sight of the group at the bottom of the stairs. He had a greatsword similar to Carver's strapped to his back and, by the way he was covered in blood, it appeared he knew how to use the weapon effectively.

Though it was the middle of the night, the mage could see enough of the elf to know he was not an ordinary elf. Matted pinkish hair, redder in some parts, made him think his hair would be white if it were clean of gore. Spiky looking armor and leggings, which left parts of the body completely uncovered to show the elegant lines of tattoos that seemed to cover his body. They seemed to sing to him in a tune too low to be heard clearly but high enough to prevent being ignored. It was too dark to discern the color of his eyes, but Hawke could feel their intensity just the same. The elf's right hand twitched, and Garrett finally noticed the wickedly pointed claws on his gauntlets. Gauntlets that were stained as if he had reached into his victim's body to bathe them so thoroughly with blood.

Garrett licked his lips nervously, afraid that speaking would send this feral elf into a frenzy or worse, that it would make him disappear as if it were a creature from the fade. "Are you the elf the slaver was talking about?"

He could see the elf blink, "Am I to believe you are the group Anso hired for me?"

Someone passed ahead of him. Carver.

"So you sent us into a trap? I ought to…"

He grabbed his brother's arm, "Drop it Carver," looking at the elf he could not help but be glad to have killed the slavers. No one deserved to be caged and broken, "Excuse my brother. The name's Hawke, and you didn't have to resort to deception."

There was something else, a slow desperation taking hold of the elf, "If you need any other help, I'm willing to aid you and I'm sure my companions would do the same. I owe Aveline a gift and killing slavers would make her oh, so happy."

"How thoughtful of you, Hawke," the woman replied without a hint of humor on her face, "Continue giving me gifts like this and I might have to petition Leandra for your hand in matrimony."

"Don't settle for anything less than three goats, eight sheaves of wheat and ten sovereigns, Hawke," Varric piped up but the mage's attention was back on the elf.

"My name is Fenris. I… have seldom encountered people willing to offer their assistance once they know of my predicament. Even Anso had to be… persuaded," the elf finally stepped closer to them and Hawke could see his eyes were green and his tattoos seemed to be raised on his skin, like scars. The song they emitted, while muted, was familiar. The call of lyrium.

"Well, we like to volunteer our aid if there are slavers involved. We'll charge for anything else."

The elf smiled, though it was way too small to be called a smile, and the desperation in his eyes was rising.

"So, if we can help…"

The elf cast his eyes to the slavers they had killed previously, stopping on the body of the man Aveline killed.

"Was he carrying anything?"

Varric held the note, "Just this. They're instructions of capturing two elves and taking them to a mansion in Hightown. I even know the one they're talking about."

Garrett feared the elf would vanish into the night and raze Hightown on his own.

"Do you know the other elf?"

"She is… She travels with me. I knew the hunters would attack and I'd been planning on being here to confront them. I didn't think I'd been seen. They knew where we were hiding and attacked. Probably thinking I had left to the alienage. I never would've thought they'd be so numerous. They took her while I was fighting. Didn't even notice she was gone until they were all dead."

The elf's eyes were full of misery, guilt and hate. So much hate. He feared the clawed gauntlets would pierce his hands with the way he was clenching his fists.

"Well, let's rescue this other elf. Varric, lead the way."

The gratitude in those eyes was staggering. Just who were Fenris and the other elf? And what exactly was he involving himself into.


	4. Chapter 4: Bait and Switch 2

**WARNINGS: SAME AS BEFORE**

_A/N: Thanks to everyone that faved, alerted or reviewed! Like always, tell me if you liked it and any mistakes that need to be fixed._

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><p><strong>Bait and Switch 2:<strong>

The walk to Hightown was made in record time. During that time, Fenris had told them the highlights of the situation. He and the other elf were escaped slaves from Tevinter. Their previous master, a man named Danarius, wanted them back because they'd been his experiments of sorts. Fenris explained his tattoos were truly brands of lyrium etched into his skin by magic. He said it gave him abilities, but he didn't know the extent of them.

What made the other elf special, Fenris didn't say. Hawke noticed he was reluctant to speak about her, only doing so because she'd been captured. It reminded him of the way he acted when asked about his children. At least Hawke convinced Carver to stay behind, opting to stay at the Hanged Man rather than face his mother without Garrett at his side.

"This is the place," Varric presented with a flourish.

The mansion was hidden in a corner and it looked like it had seen better days.

"I thought this mansion was abandoned," Aveline said, "The Seneschal complains about it every once in a while. Says it gives a bad name to Hightown and now I think I understand what he meant."

"Well, let's be ready for anything. We don't know if this Danarius is here, but there will be more slavers and perhaps other surprises, if Fenris isn't lying about the magister's blood magic antics."

The glare he received could rival Aveline's or his mother's, "And what would I gain by lying."

He offered a placating grin, hoping it worked on him as it worked on Aveline and Leandra, "Hey, just saying. Be prepared for anything, be it blood mages or dancing qunaris."

The elf rolled his eyes, but Hawke noticed most of the tension was gone. With a silent sign, Aveline smashed the door with ease. Every time he witnessed Aveline doing something, he was glad to have befriended her. Or at least his bones were glad.

Fenris rushed inside the mansion without a care, earning a curse from the rest of the group as he triggered a trap and shades appeared from the floor.

"Hawke, tell the elf to wait until we check for traps. Andraste's tits I think Bianca's gotten scratched!"

Hawke was too busy fighting two shades. He was used to fighting close ranged, but sometimes it was better to get a little distance between himself and the enemy. That moment came when a rage demon sprang from the floor behind him. Hawke tried to turn and block the swing he knew was coming but the shades didn't let up. He felt the skin on his back burn as the demon touched him and its malignant laughter. Aveline was busy with shades of her own and Fenris was hacking away at another rage demon while Varric was trying his best to help the elf while dodging shades of his own. With a cry, he called forth from the fade a wall of ice to freeze the shades before him. Once that was done, he concentrated on the demon. He attacked it with both weapon and magic. It tried to escape him, disappearing under the floor, but it made the mistake of appearing in front of Fenris who finished it with an impressive whirlwind of his own, as he terminated three shades and the demon with only one strike of his sword.

With the battle over, Garrett felt the burn on his back as if it had melted the skin and muscles. He knew the pain made the wound feel worse than it truly was, but he could not concentrate like this. Not when he could do something about it. With a glance at his companions, he noticed that Aveline was cradling her arm close to her chest, Varric had a set of gashes on his face where a shade had clawed at him and Fenris had a burn on his arm probably from the first rage demon he killed. He concentrated his healing aura and sent the healing energy into his companions, always careful to not bother them. By now, he knew how to channel the magic into Varric and Aveline, but Fenris was an unknown. One that appeared to be extremely sensitive to magic to the point of pain. Garret tried to keep the healing as subtle as possible, but he could feel the anger and hate burning a hole through him as Fenris glared at him.

"Well, this was fun," he said as the silence grew uncomfortable, "Let's see what else this magister has prepared for us!"

With forced cheer and an exaggerated swagger, Hawke climbed the stairs, tension easing as Varric chuckled and Aveline groaned. Too bad he could still feel that glare right between his shoulder blades.

The house was littered with traps similar to the first one they encountered, but not one person came at them. Hawke was beginning to fear the other elf would be lost. Fenris would have to search for her on his own if they were beyond Kirkwall. As much as he would like to help, he had his family to take care of too and leaving to Tevinter to rescue an elf was out of the question.

"Well, this is the last room. Let's hope they're here. Otherwise…" Aveline didn't finish that sentence and Hawke risked a look behind him to Fenris. It was like looking at an injured mabari. Ready to bite your head off if you got too close, but pleading to be helped despite the obvious attack that would come.

There was sound coming from the other side of the room. Hawke signaled the group to stop and be silent as he quietly approached the door. He placed his ear on the door hoping to hear better.

Men. And someone crying. He'd personally light a candle in the chantry if it meant their luck during the night had changed.

He told them to wait for it and with a wave of his hand, the force magic he used made the door fly inside the room, getting at least half of the men inside. Aveline rushed after it, followed by Fenris and Varric. The latter went to the cage where a little girl was staring at them with tears in her eyes.

A girl. A little elven girl with tousled black hair, big green eyes and tattered clothes that were, at least, one size too large for her. Varric picked the lock with ease and joined the fray, leaving him to get the girl out of there.

She scooted back, eyes widened in fear, as he tried to take her hand.

"We're here to rescue you," he told her softly, like he talked to his babies as they fled Lothering to keep them from crying and being found by darkspawn.

The girl looked at him incredulously, but she caught sight of something behind him that made her smile in relief. Turning to see what it was, Garrett was treated to the sight of Fenris, tattoos glowing a burning blue and thrusting his hand inside one of the slavers to rip his heart out. It was a grisly sight and Hawke was sure no one should look as happy as the little girl did when it happened. But it confirmed that she was the elf they came to rescue.

"You know Fenris? We came with him to rescue you," he tried one more time to reach her.

This time, the little girl jumped, but allowed him to take her hand. He managed to get her out of the cage. Looking around, he noticed there were still a handful of slavers and, while he could throw a shield around him and the girl, it would be safe to go outside and wait. Better yet, he could take her out of Hightown and into Gamlen's hovel while everyone fought here.

"I got the girl Fenris!" he cried to the warrior, hoping the elf or one of the others heard him.

Aveline was the only one that rushed to his side, covering him as he escaped the mansion.

"Where will you be?"

"Home. She needs food and a safe place to sleep."

The sound of battle intensified, along with the roar of yet another demon. Hawke hesitated, hating to leave his friends without the assistance of a healer.

Aveline gave him a stern look, "Take her. We've got enough healing potions and we can take care of ourselves."

With a nod, they both separated. Garrett hurried back to his home after collecting his brother and Isabela. Aveline went back to join the fight one more time and distract the slavers from the two figures leaving the mansion.


	5. Chapter 5: Bait and Switch 3

**WARNINGS: ON THE FIRST CHAPTER**

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, faves and alerts. Fixed the mistakes on chapter 2. Thanks for telling me about them. Like always, tell me what you think and of any mistakes that you see._

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><p><strong>Bait and Switch 3:<strong>

Once the battle was over, Fenris, Aveline and Varric lay panting in exhaustion. The slavers had been easy to dispose of, but the demons, shades and the two Arcane Horrors that came after, took a little more time to kill. It was almost morning, which meant they had spent most of the night in battle. And while they didn't know about Fenris, they both could say they'd never seen so many demons before in their lives.

Fenris seemed to be the first to recover.

"Levana?" he asked, casting his eyes around the room.

When no one answered, he tried it one more time. Followed by what was clearly Arcanum.

"If you're calling the elf girl, Hawke took her away from the fight."

Feral green eyes turned to look at the guardswoman, "Hawke? You mean the mage?"

He stomped forward, wild anger simmering on his eyes and a deep scowl on his face. Aveline would never admit to almost taking a step back when a clawed finger was suddenly on her line of sight just as he crossed her personal space.

"You have one chance to tell me where he took her, woman," he growled at her, the wild look in his eyes telling her he was going to attack her if he didn't calm down.

"Hey, calm down, elf," Varric said in a placating manner and taking a step forward, "I'm sure you're familiar with the way these men treat children. Especially little elven girls that make a nice bargaining chip to capture you as well. Hawke just wanted to keep her safe."

"How safe can she be with him! He's a mage! You have no idea what they're capable of!"

He whirled towards the dwarf, anger, hate and fear focused on a new target. He loomed over Varric, tattoos coming to life as he prepared to unleash his emotions. They both knew that there was so much Bianca and her could do against a hand shoved through a chest. Especially with how fast the elf turned out to be in a fight. Aveline saw the dwarf's eyes widened and she hurried to take the elf's attention.

"Well, nice to know you appreciate his help. After all, we're here because he offered his help after you set him up to be ambushed."

There was hate, anger, but Aveline was beginning to see those two emotions were normal for him. It was the resignation that made her wonder. Almost as if he was giving up.

"Venhedis!" he cried, smashing his fist into a nearby vase.

Or maybe not…

He stood, back to them and staring into the shards. The only sound that could be heard was that of his heavy breathing as he tried to control his emotions.

When he turned to look at them, it was as if the entire episode had never occurred.

"I… I'm sorry. I do not want to appear ungrateful, but…" he sighed. A broken sound that told the woman how fragile the appearance of civility he was trying to give truly was, "If he dares touch her, I'm going to rip his heart out."

"Okay, let's get started then," Varric said as he clapped his hands and picked an amulet from a pile of ashes, "The sooner we finish picking up the valuables, the sooner we'll be back in Lowtown. Who knows! Maybe we'll luck out and we'll be in time for breakfast at the Hawkes."

Aveline watched the exasperation on the elf's face, but he mumbled something in Arcanum before crouching over a slaver's body to pick up the sword nearby.

Varric finished looting the place in almost no time. A surprising thing considering he somehow managed to carry everything that wasn't bolted down, and only because he'd probably return later with more help to take that too. There was a smile on his face that told her he found something he liked and perhaps this night had not been a complete waste of his time. For her part, she was quite satisfied. After all, she just disposed of more slavers than she'd ever done following her patrols and enough fade creatures to make Wesley jealous…

Or he would've been jealous…

"Are you ready? Or are you waiting for Fenris to rip your heart out?"

The dwarf laughed at her words and began making his way out of the mansion. Though she didn't miss the side look he gave the increasingly tense elf. Not like she could blame him now. If it were her, she would've dragged the dwarf away from the mansion before he could start eyeing the silverware.

A stray memory. One of betrayal, fire, darkspawn and blood. Her and Wesley fighting side by side. The family that helped them. The templar, her husband, trying to follow the dictations of the Order. And a family willing to kill him for it. Fetid smell. Trembling earth. And an ogre felled by the hands of just one mage before it could reach the group… reach the still small babies resting; one on his mother's arms and the other on his sister's. Just one man willing to do anything within his power to protect his children.

She had to give the elf credit for his patience. Hawke would've destroyed Kirkwall to get his children back. He would've charred anyone keeping them from him, even if they claimed they were doing it to protect them.

"So, Aveline, I take it you'll be staying in Hightown. After all, you have a patrol tonight and need all the rest you can get. Though I wonder how much rest you can get in the barracks. Word has it rocks are softer than the beds there."

She sighed tiredly, limbs aching as the first rays of sunlight made the city look like something out of the fade as it mingled with the shadows of the night. She noticed the elf walking right beside her, almost as if he was trying to keep their pace instead of rushing ahead blindly. Not one to be left behind, Varric walked on her other side seemingly distracted with a piece of the loot from the mansion. She knew better though.

"And how do you know my schedule, Varric?" she asked him, not surprised when he kept admiring what appeared to be a cracked doll, "You know I'll find out soon enough. But to answer your question, I'd like to accompany you. It's been a while since I spoke with Leandra."

Varric chuckled, now appraising an amulet.

"I get it. You want to check on them. Make sure they weren't followed by any slavers. But with a mabari, Sunshine and Junior, maybe even Rivaini, between them and the slavers, I think I feel bad for the slavers."

Going down the stairs to Lowtown took more time than usual as she and Varric were practically dragging their feet by sheer force of will. The elf kept muttering things in Arcanum and glaring at them, but Aveline was far too tired to care.

In Lowtown, the merchants were starting to arrive to their stalls to prepare them before opening for the day. It was like sleepwalking, though Aveline noticed Fenris didn't seem tired at all. The elf in question didn't seem to notice the nervous glances the merchants were giving him and the rest of the group. Probably because they looked as if they'd decided to bathe in blood with clothes on.

Lowtown's house district was always a depressing sight. It was only better looking when compared to the alienage and Darktown. Though Aveline was of the mind that the alienage at least had a tree to make it look livelier than this place. Though the smell of dead elf was definitely worse than the smell of rotten cabbage that somehow permeated the place. It was worse nearby Gamlen's hovel, the rotten cabbage mixing with the pungent smell of qunari cheese. Maker only knows the amount of complaints the guardsmen had about that blighted cheese smell.

"You want me to believe this is where the mage lives?" Fenris finally spoke to them and, by the almost growling tone it carried; he clearly thought they were leading him on.

"It was his uncle's hovel or Darktown. Not like I see much of a difference between them," Varric said, knocking on the door.

"Marginally cleaner floors," she told him as the door opened and Fenris strode past her, shoved Varric aside and entered the house without being invited. Much like he did back at the mansion.

The sight of him, speechless and frozen was almost worth the hassle to her tired mind. She looked past Hawke still holding the door opened and Fenris to see what made the elf like that. Only to be greeted by the sight of a skinny elven girl with black hair sitting on Isabela's lap. The pirate was busy combing the girl's hair, the glint of a dagger being sheathed the only sign that she'd been ready to fight if they'd been enemies.

Aveline swore the little girl flew out of Isabela's lap and into the elf's arms. An elf that, despite the prickly exterior, opened his arms to her almost instantly and picked her up without a thought. It was a private moment between the elf and the girl. Aveline felt uncomfortable watching the shaking arms of the elf, the strong grip the girl had on Fenris' neck, the way they spoke quietly in Arcanum reassuring themselves that they were alright, safe and still free.

"What a nice family reunion! Don't you think so, Hawke," Isabela all but purred as she stood up and sashayed towards them and staring at the elf as if he was the last bottle of rum and she'd spent the entire day sober, "Such a lithe form, strong arms and lovely tattoos. Mmm… I wonder if Jethann is available tonight. I feel like eating elf tonight, if you get my meaning."

Fenris and the little girl were staring at an unrepentant Isabela. Give it to the pirate to ruin the moment.

"Shut up, whore."

"Andraste's ass! Aveline, what have I said about language near the kids?"


	6. Chapter 6: Lowtown Kirkwall

**WARNINGS: CHECK THE FIRST CHAPTER**

_A/N: Thanks to all the people that reviewed, alerted and faved. While I don't have kids of my own, I do have a niece that I love with all my heart and pray that nothing bad ever happens to her. And yes, the person talking in chapters 1 &2 is Flemmeth. She demanded a cameo. Like always, tell me what you think and any mistakes that I might've missed._

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><p><strong>Lowtown Kirkwall:<strong>

Garret Hawke had grown very distant from the man he used to be in Lothering. Sometimes, and as time passed fewer times, he wondered what Bryant would think of him now if he'd chosen to leave with them. But he never dwelled on those thoughts for long. He couldn't. Bryant had made a choice that gave all of Lothering the time to flee. Questioning his sacrifice diminished it. The best men and women of the Chantry died that day and Hawke wanted to honor those deaths.

The mage had many ways to make an impression. To the elves and the women and children of Darktown, he was the hero that saved them from slavers. The one that appeared when they needed and rescued them without caring what kind of person they were and that they had no gold to pay him for it. He was the one that made them want to be better people and ashamed of the things they did either for survival or because they knew no other way.

To his family and the rest of Kirkwall, he was the joker. The one that held nothing sacred at the expense of a laugh. More often than not, he said the worst thing possible in any situation. It made people think he was mocking them and the people with him groan in exasperation.

To his enemies, or anyone that incurred his anger, he was a ruthless man. The one that had no qualms about killing a person in the most painful way possible in retribution or holding back death, giving hope of mercy, until the information is given and any hope squashed with a wave of magic. His fame as a man to not be crossed had been well earned. It made people afraid of telling the templars of his magic or his sister's. But it made his children a horribly big target and, because of it, only a handful knew of their existence.

Since looking into fearful green eyes and realizing the elf Fenris wanted to rescue was a child, he couldn't help but think of her as Cecily. Bryant had loved his little girl's green eyes… Watching Fenris and the girl, who had not said a word during all this time, holding each other with the strength of people thinking they had lost each other made his anger grow against the magister that almost separated them tonight.

They were like him. That child could be any one of his kids. He could be Fenris. And the fear, fear he kept trying to ignore, gripped his heart and left him breathless. If anyone knew about his kids… If they ever learned of their whereabouts… This could be him or worse….

The moment was broken when Fenris eyes caught his. Wild, angry eyes shining with hate. So much hate…

"If I find you have done anything to her when you took her…"

The words had a gravely tone to it, almost like a growl. With a start, Garret realized the hate was directed at him. Just once he'd like to save someone and have them be grateful for it… Especially when he did it for free.

Closing the door, he noticed Aveline rolled her eyes before taking a seat at the table. Varric only shook his head before following the guardswoman. They both looked as if they'd gone against a dragon and the dragon flew off as the winner. But their reaction told him volumes. After all, they were expecting this of the elf.

Garret shrugged, throwing Fenris the one smile that always made his mother glare at him with a tiny hint of a smile she thought he never noticed.

"Well, let's see… Mother insisted on a bath and clean clothes before food, but Carver was the one stuck getting the water for the bath. Isabela came with one of her tunics, which Bethany accidentally set on fire. Oh, I know what I did! I sacrificed one of my favorite tunics for her to wear. Sure, Mother was the one to make sure it somehow fitted her, but I think the green color accentuates her eyes. Don't you agree?"

There was a collective groan, and he was sure Isabela rubbed her face. At least it made her stop looking at the little girl with a disappointed look.

"Accident, Andraste's sweet perky ass! She knew what she was doing," she said dropping the comb she still held in her hand on the table before sitting on Varric's lap, "I personally think it was revenge for telling her about that one time in Denerim with your cousin."

She finished with an amused giggle. The dwarf had to be more tired than he let on, as he didn't try to dislodge the woman. Hawke hoped her words distracted the elf, but apparently it made things worse.

He placed the girl on the floor and she ran behind him. A little scared girl clutching her father's right leg and staring at the rest of the world with big sad, fearful eyes. Because Fenris was her father, be it by blood or circumstance, Garrett didn't know. He knew the look of the girl… He'd seen it in the countless orphans that littered Kirkwall and it never failed to break his heart. No child should carry that look

"Your sister is a mage too?" Fenris cried, fear clouding the usual anger in his eyes.

The song of his tattoos increasing as they suddenly glowed blue and the elf seemed to turn almost hazy as the Veil weakened around him. It was surprising and enthralling, but all he could think was how he didn't notice all that yesterday. He blamed it on the late hour it all happened.

Now, it was all very clear. Fenris and the girl were special because magic had been used on them to make them special. Against their will. And given what he knew of lyrium, it had to have been painful beyond measure. To have survived it was a miracle. Added to that pain came the knowledge that they were hunted continuously. No wonder the elf was a wild thing with a hatred against magic and mages.

"We escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hound us at every corner," he spoke, sadness, despair and… was that defeat…

"Well, I'm sorry my existence offends you. You are welcomed to go now and continue with your life, you know," he said carelessly.

Fenris might've been a slave. He might currently be almost feral. But Garrett would not apologize or feel guilty for things he did not do. He was not a magister and he hadn't even set foot on Tevinter and he refused to be grouped with them.

Fenris was going to say something. Probably something nasty and mean to hurt him. Hawke wondered when he'd h use the glowing thing on him.

"Perhaps you should ask him where the gold Anso told us about is exactly."

"We are not accepting his gold, Varric. Didn't you find something to sell on that mansion?"

The dwarf laughed, taking an amulet and showing it to the group, "I found plenty, Hawke, but we're still going to end up short."

The elf trembled, hands clenched in a fist that made him wonder if the elf had hurt himself. The little girl held his leg and Hawke wondered if that was the thing that held him in place.

The elf suddenly scoffed and picked the girl again. He opened the door again without a second look and Hawke realized he was going to lose a good warrior. He'd probably be stuck with Carver for the rest of his life.

But then, the worst nightmare Hawke had ever had came true. His little girl. His beautiful Cecily. The one that most resembled her other father in temperament. The one Bryant himself had named because her eyes were like his mother's. She came out of room, giggling and running with her arms outstretched towards him.

He picked her up. He would always pick her and Malcom if they asked or needed. And she cried out in delight. Her face shone with happiness. Both his kids were always happy. Small little hands grabbed his nose, almost poking an eye out of him. She leaned forward, when he turned his face away from her fingers, wet and sloppy was the kiss she gave his cheek. The first one she ever gave, despite Bethany's and mother's urgings for hugs and kisses.

The door was opened for everyone to see. The elf was still on the threshold, as he turned when the sound his baby made coming into the room caught his attention. A set of green eyes staring at the scene. One of them the eyes of a mage hating elf.

Blue stared deeply into green.

'If you dare, I will destroy you,' he thought.

But the elf was not truly staring at him. He looked haunted. Pained. Regretful. And something told him that whatever it was that gave him that look was something he did not want to know… Even when all he wanted was to ask the warrior if he was okay.

No one moved, except for Cecily. Until Fenris shuddered, the haunted look gone as he went back into Gamlen's house.

"I am sorry. If I appeared ungrateful to you or your friends. We… we have our reasons to hate magic, as you can well imagine. Don't get me wrong, I know magic does have its uses, but it is very easy to stray. And when you wield that much power, straying leads to horrors unimaginable."

The elf spoke in a clipped voice. It reminded Hawke of the times he watched Bryant and the other templars memorizing parts of the Chant. There was feeling on the words, but they didn't feel completely real. Almost as if he was still learning how to act like a regular person instead of a slave.

'_But what kind of civility could he learn while running and hiding?'_

"Hey, I'm not saying you should go around hugging every mage that crosses your path, but at least keep in mind that this is not Tevinter and I'm not a magister, okay?"

The elf smiled. Still just the bare bones of a smile, but a smile nonetheless. It made Hawke grin like an idiot on the inside.

"If I forget, I'll just take a stroll to see where you live."

Isabela laughed, almost waking Aveline and, apparently, Varric too. Bethany popped her head from the back room to see what was happening. She had the tousled look that said she just woke up, which meant that Cecily had escaped her crib again. No wonder no one came after her.

"Ha, ha, very funny," he deadpanned, watching him smile with the little girl still staring at him with those sad eyes made him think of some way of helping them.

He could offer Fenris his aid if this Danarius came for him again. He could offer him a job of sorts. Well, he kept telling Aveline he was working. Sure, their savings for the expedition will be less, but he'd been thinking of finding a warrior before Carver found a way to annoy him to death.

"Look, if you're staying around and need some gold, I'm willing to help you out."

A raised eyebrow from both Isabela and Fenris. The former suddenly cackling and excusing herself before sauntering out of the house.

"Not giving you the gold, but working to get it. And once I get the gold for Bartrand's expedition, we'll be going into the Deep Roads. I know, big thing, but mother and Bethany are willing to care for the kids. Adding yours doesn't seem like a problem for them.

"Perhaps we'll be staying," Fenris began, looking down at the girl with a warmth that had not been there before, "Levana needs time to recover from this."

"Beautiful name, for a beautiful little girl," Garret said, "This little one here is Cecily. Malcom is still sleeping. What can I say? Twins run in the family."

He shrugged again, watching his sister come out of the back room while yawning loudly. She took one look at the scene.

Aveline and Varric were asleep on their table. Fenris and Hawke were staring at each other. She shook her head, almost as if trying to wake up more and began preparing breakfast, cursing a little when she asked Garret if he'd made bread and he told her no.

Fenris shuffled as if uncomfortable.

"She's… She's happy and does not look like you at all," there was a catch in the elf's voice.

"She takes after her other side of the family. Just remember that you did not see them and they don't exist."

"Likewise."

Garrett extended his hand, but the elf looked at it, cocking his head a little to look at it through his bangs. The mage let his hand fall.

"Where are you staying?"

There was silence. Broken only with the sounds of Bethany cooking the porridge.

"They know the place we were staying, but I find myself willing to face my former master," Fenris began, "I cannot live with a wolf at our backs and my daughter deserves better. I believe we shall be moving to the mansion we rescued Levana from. If he wants it back, he has to pry it from my cold, dead, fingers."

He wanted to stay quiet. He really did. But his mouth betrayed him.

"Cold, dead fingers? Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf."

Bethany squeaked and Fenris chuckled. It was an adorable moment.

"If you want to stay there, let's wait until they wake up so we can begin fixing the place."

The warrior scowled, "Why would it need fixing? It is not mine and I do not care for it."

"For starters, there might be more traps waiting to be triggered by the wrong hands. Second, Varric always says those mansions have escape routes. It'll be fun to find them and know them just in case you or Levana ever needs them. And, the palce is filthy and has broken stuff all over the place. She can hurt herself just walking around. We don't want that, do we?"

"No, I don't want that. And finding an escape route sounds good," it was dragged and reluctant, "But we can't stay at our old place either."

"Don't worry. I have an idea, but you two should be tired. She refused to sleep, though she didn't speak either."

"That is my fault," he said, "She only knows Arcanum and I have been remiss in teaching her the common tongue."

"Well mother did say she was bored. She can teach her while we clean your brand new house and tomorrow she can continue her lessons while we go to Sundermount."

"I have never left Levana alone since we escaped," Fenris confessed, "What is in Sudermount?"

"Mother is safe. She's no mage. And we have a promise to keep with the Dalish."


End file.
